


Life Ain't a Rom Com, Baby (But Won't You Let Me Hold Your Hand?)

by zerodaysdone



Series: The Stories We'll Tell [2]
Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Rom com cliches, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodaysdone/pseuds/zerodaysdone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sphene and Zeiat keep running into each other, but they're not made for rom coms so it doesn't quite work out (until the end).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Ain't a Rom Com, Baby (But Won't You Let Me Hold Your Hand?)

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, Sphene's a shitty drug dealer and Zeiat does shady shit for the Presger.  
> This is technically a follow-up to Coffee Shop Snapshots, but both are completely stand alone except for small crossover points.

  
  


-Start-

Sphene's life wasn't a rom com- Couldn't BE a rom com. Her hair was bright green and all of her shirts came from shady Asian traders who thought English looked aesthetic and didn't care about the meaning. She worked in a 7-11. She was a drug dealer, for fuck's sake. She had no place in a romantic comedy, except maybe as a wacky watered down villain that a dog pushed into a pool at the end as the couple gallivanted off. So no, she wasn't even going to try. Meet cute didn't happen to her, and she didn't want it to. That was that.

***

Zeiat's life wasn't a rom com. Rom coms were boring, formulaic, predictable. She liked to think of herself as anything but that. Rom coms were, at the end of the day, very dull. Stereotype after stereotype flowing neatly into place, unnaturally linear and strange. Zeiat didn't have much in common with the genre, except maybe that she was just as calculated and precise, even when others couldn't see it. But thankfully, meet cute didn't happen in real life. Real life wasn't that formulaic. It flowed, it ran, it screamed, cried, bled. Those, those were the things Zeiat liked. 

***

Life had other plans.

Life could shove it.

***

-5-

Sphene only wore glasses when putting in contacts was too much of a hassle. So, basically, never. She didn't bother with most things, but the difference between losing your glasses when you trip and not could make our break your life. Unfortunately, she'd lost her contacts. Really. Who did that. She's found out that morning, when she'd blindly groped around her tiny bathroom counter and found nothing. Her glasses, however, were exactly where she'd left them: collecting dust in the medicine cabinet.

There was no God.

***

Zeiat didn't actually need glasses, but people were funny about these things and acted offended when you were honest about it. So, she just pretended she needed them. It was perfectly reasonable. Plus, it caused potential marks to underestimate you, making things like stealing wallets, jewelry, or, say, exotic fruit, so much easier. So, she wore glasses and did her best to pretend that she needed them. 

***

Sphene was scoping out the hipster side of town. Places like that tended to be full of susceptible potential customers who considered themselves too cool to call the cops. Honestly, it was just routine. 

***

Zeiat was stuck in town because that's where her family sent her. She doubted the Presger could even tell their lesser cousins apart, flinging fake identities this way and that at a whim. Really, it made keeping track of things very difficult. There was nothing remarkable here, and the whole stay was shaping up to be B-O-R-I-N-G. That spelled boring. The most there was to do here was trying to figure out exactly where Anaander Mianaai was hiding her stash. And stock up on clothes. White suits were classy, sure, but quilted vests? Now those were _cool_. So, she'd been loitering around the hipster area of town. Two fish with one hook and all that. Or was it birds? It didn't matter.

***

Sphene strolled casually down the street, looking this way and that. The good dumpster was near here, the one that smelled like coffee, fresh fruit, and weed. She vaguely remembered Seivarden, an acquaintance (read: customer), hanging out around the back alleys of the area. 

All things considered, she should have seen it coming. The crack in the sidewalk, the trip, the fall, the glasses flying somewhere off to the side, and then someone landing right on top of her. 

Well, OK, that last part hadn't been so predictable.

***

Zeiat found herself sprawled on out on the ground with a face full of something nice-smelling and green. It took her a couple of moments to figure out that the something was green, but she managed quite well. Mostly because the green thing was muttering curses under its breath and trying its best to get out from under her. 

Her glasses, the accessory that really completed today's outfit, were no longer on her face. Which, really, was unfortunate. 

The person kneed her in the stomach and rolled away, groping blindly around for... Zeiat spotted a second pair of glasses just as the stranger grabbed the fake pair and shoved them onto her face.

And stopped.

“What prescription is this?” the stranger said angrily, blinking blearily.

“Zero point zero,” Zeiat answered promptly. “Emptier than a church.”

Green hair flung the empty glasses away and started groping around for her own pair again. Zeaiat picked it up and gently tapped her on the arm with them. 

The stranger snatched the pair away, checked it, stood up, and walked very quickly away without saying another word. 

Zeiat hummed quietly to herself.

The smell of her hair lingered for the rest of the day, just out of reach. 

***

-4-

The disaster of yesterday didn't stop Sphene from coming back the next day and checking out the coffee shop, and then the next to loiter creepily in alleys and drink Rad Chaai's coffee (because tea was for pretentious assholes and Anaander Mianaai, which, ha, might as well be the same thing). 

As usual, this ended in good news and bad news.

The good news was that Seivarden was miraculously alive, holding a job, and not sleeping on a couch or in a dumpster. 

The bad news was that now, Sphene was stuck in line behind a hauntingly familiar figure with a hauntingly familiar voice. 

***

The worst thing about Rad Chai Coffee and Book Store was that their drink options were, well, lacking. First of all, they lacked any type of tea (and as such had no right to bear 'Chai' in their name, seriously). Second, none of the options had any real flavor to them.

“All I'm saying,” Zeiat said, gesturing wildly, “Is that some variety would be nice. Mix the colors up, open up the space of your customers taste buds! Put shrimp sauce in the coffee, or even better, add tea to the menu, zing up the lighter brews with some hot sauce.”

***

After five minutes of having to listen to the ranting, Sphene lost it.

“Yes,” she said heavily. “Why _don't_ we put hot sauce in the green tea.”

The customer in front of her whirled around and grinned brightly. She had a very nice smile. Well, no, the smile was slightly terrifying and a little too sharp. Which was what was nice about it. And no, Sphene refused to do this right now. Refused.

“That's what I've been saying this entire time!” the stranger said vibrantly. “And they have the audacity to not have it as a drink choice!”

“Should I... Should I get Anaander?” one of the baristas whispered. 

A shiver crept down Sphene's spine.

“If you get Anaander,” murmured the other barista, “They'll never find your corpse.”

Sphene relaxed a little. A little too soon.

“There are so many options in the world of drinks, and yet they're all ignored,” the other customer said dramatically. 

“Just get me a black coffee,” Sphene said curtly, slamming cash down on the counter. 

“Get me one, too,” said the stranger. “I brought my own sauce, anyways.”

Sphene stared at her.

“You can never expect too much of places where someone's been shot, you know,” said the stranger conspiratorially.

Sphene grabbed her coffee and hightailed it out, yelling at the barista to keep the change. Unfortunately, the other customer seemed to have much the same idea. It worked out well for a while, until they both tried to get through the door at the same time and Sphene ended up with a shirt full of hot hot coffee.

She stopped for a second, felt the pain seep through, looked down, looked back up at the shocked looking customer, covered her face with her hands, and screamed. 

From inside the coffee shop came concerned sounds, but a calm voice cut through it all, saying something like, “Not my monkey, not my circus.”

The pain was awful. Well, it could have been worse. But scalding liquid of any kind was awful.

What didn't make it better was the cup of ice tipped over her front seconds later. 

When Sphene finished sputtering and gathering herself, she looked up to see who the hell had the nerve to- 

And then she saw the policeman. 

The stranger followed her gaze, saw what she saw. Then, they slowly exchanged a mute look of vague horror. Almost in sync, they both turned around and quietly scurried away in opposite directions. 

***

-3-

One day of peace and quiet. One day. That's all Sphene wanted. One day. So, she'd come to the hipster area's little park to relax. The edible from earlier was comfortably kicking in, giving her a light buzz. She had work later, but for now, she had the time to herself. It was idyllic. Birds were singing, plants were growing, the fountain shimmering in the sunlight...

***

The small park near the coffee shop was truly something. Well, the fountain was. Well, not the fountain itself, but what was inside it. Zeiat bent herself practically in half, nose millimeters away from the cool water. Underneath the surface swarmed a myriad of fish. Red, golden, white, and black, their spots glistened in the water. She'd dropped her sandwich in, and not regretted it one bit.

She wondered if these fish could eat the flesh off a bone. Humans could do anything, if pressed. Fish weren't so different. Both needed water to survive, both lived on Earth. They might as well have been the same thing. Of course, you weren't allowed to eat humans. You were, however, allowed to eat fish.

This gave her a brilliant idea. 

***

One day. Just one. In all honesty, she didn't know what possessed her. She wasn't a good person, not at all, and yet...

***

Zeiat leaned forward just a little more, getting closer to the fish with every second. She opened her mouth high, leaned forward just a little more, nose dipping into the water, and...

And someone grabbed her by the collar and hauled her up over the edge of the fountain. Her teeth closed on nothing. Disappointing.

She turned around to see how it was and found herself face to face with the green haired lady whose misfortune she'd shared twice in the past week. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, or a well phrased reprimand, but her acquaintance (three meetings made them not quite strangers) beat her to it.

“Are you high?” she said morosely.

“Excuse me?”

“It's a simple question.”

“No. No I'm not. I wanted a fish.”

“Go to a pet store like the rest of us.”

With that, the stranger turned around and left.

***

Sphene hightailed it from the park, swearing she wouldn't get involved in any more hijinks. But for the rest of the day, every time she caught a curly ponytail in the edge of her vision, she almost instinctively turned towards it. Which was awful. Absolutely awful. 

***

-2-

Sphene didn't have a car. She knew all respectable drug dealers should, it made business easier. But, she didn't. Well, technically, she had. But then Anaander Mianaai happened. She was still plotting her revenge. It got wilder and more creative with each passing trip. The bus rides only gave her time to think. That asshole had made a big mistake.

***

Zeiat didn't have a car. She didn't even really know if she could afford one. The family took care of such things. If she didn't have one, that meant she didn't need one. Simple as that. She didn't exactly like bus rides, but they served their purpose. Plus, seeing people interact in public (in the wild, her brain supplied) was always riveting. 

The bus was crowded, which might have been usual for this time of day, but she wouldn't exactly know. This was her first go at establishing connections in the part of town she was heading to, and so she didn't know this route too well. Luckily, she'd gotten there earlier, gotten a seat right next to an elderly woman in a bright yellow scarf, and was able to relax. As long as she kept her feet out of the way of the other passengers and sat quietly, no one really commented. 

It was, well, it was nice. As much as she loved making a scene, there was something pleasant about being just another face in the ground. Her height and personal style didn't make that possible very often. So, she sat and listened and watched, content to be part of the scenery. After all, wallpaper saw some interesting things. 

***

Sphene was last getting on the bus, which meant she ended up with the short end of the stick. Which meant standing at the front of the bus, pressed against a multitude of bodies, none of which belonged to people she knew. 

Plus, the bus driver was abhorrent.

The bus lurched around like Frankenstein's monster, creaking and groaning up a storm. The whole thing smelled vaguely of piss and beer, because of course it did. It was just. Her. Luck. 

Right as she started coming up with a particularly creative punishment for Anaander Mianaai, the bus decided it was time to go for the gold and really outdid itself. It went from full speed to a complete stop in seconds. 

Sphene was thrown forward, tried to grab onto a handhold, and succeeded only in changing her trajectory. She fell straight into someones lap. A firm hand fell to her waist, steadying her. 

She froze, looked up.

Not again.

The stranger was grinning down at her in a way that might have been maniacal, or maybe just friendly. She really couldn't tell. 

“Hello,” said the stranger. 

“Why.”

“Why what?”

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“Then who were you...?”

Sphene briefly considered saying “God,” but then decided that this was proof enough against the existence of any benevolent deity, and tried to stand up.

Unfortunately, the bus chose that exact moment to punch it to full speed, forcing her to tumble back into the grinning asshole's clutches. 

“Maybe its better if you just stayed here. The driver seems... creative.” 

Sphene forcefully extracted herself from the stranger's grasp and got off at the next stop. No. Nope. She wasn't running away. She was.... retreating from life's cruel advancements. There. That was it. 

***

Zeiat couldn't wipe the smile from her face as she watched Sphene capitulate. 

***

-1-

The club was noisy, hot, and loud, far from Sphene's usual scene. However, the customers were aplenty, and so she put on her most obvious t-shirt and slipped in with the first crowd. The selling part wasn't hard, neither was the finding customers, but she knew full well she was on Anaander's territory, and that didn't always end well. 

In the meantime, she lost herself in the swarm of bodies, swaying when they swayed and putting her hands up towards the dingy strobe lights when the music told her to. 

All in all, it wasn't too bad. 

***

Zeiat loved clubs. Of course, she preferred raves. Those were so much more interesting. However, clubs were a good place to get to know potential friends of the family. A couple of drinks and people talked. A couple of more, and they often did whatever you wanted them to.

Was it moral? No.

Was it proper? No.

Just? No.

Beneficial? Well, to the Presger. 

Tonight, however, she wasn't here to meet anyone in particular. Instead, she was here to watch. 

Anaander Mianaai was supposed to be here tonight. She already had an ongoing deal with the family, but it never hurt to keep an eye on such a player. Partially, the family had sent her out of courtesy. Partially, it had been out of concern. Anaander's fingers were sticky from all that fruit and often reached into pots and plates they didn't quite belong in.

And... yes. There she was. Anaander Mianaai was at the bar, looking quite content with her frilly frilly drink. 

Zeiat sat down a little ways down and ordered a mineral water. Because tonight, she looked fancy. And that's what fancy people did. They ordered things like mineral water, or maybe martinis. But she was here to watch, and that was best done sober. So, she took her mineral water and sipped it cautiously, wrinkling her nose at the bubbles. 

Then, she turned around in her stool and casually pretended to be a little too interested in the throng of dancers, just in case. 

***

After what seemed like hours, Sphene decided that enough was enough. She'd make more sails in the bathroom, or maybe at the bar. The bar seemed like a good idea. She could use a drink. 

As soon as she slipped out of the crowd, she realized what a mistake that had been.

At the bar sat Anaander Mianaai, nursing a drink and engrossed in her phone. Sphene sighed in relief. 

Then, Anaander looked up. 

Sphene, for all her talks of revenge, wasn't ready to take her on quite yet. This club could be full of her goons and she didn't quite feel like dying, not yet. Sure, she could come to Anaander's shop and drink her coffee and all, but that was different. Justice was there, or Breq, whatever she went by these days. The shop really was her territory, not Anaanders. And the Presger had apparently been sending out warnings about how they wouldn't tolerate another shooting in that building. 

Clubs, however. Now, those were a gray area. 

She quickly turned away from Anaander and desperately looked around for a way to get out of the situation. 

Which was when she spotted the neatly tailored and pressed suit a little ways away. Well, that suit was obviously on someone, but that didn't matter so much at the moment. What was way more important was that people in suits like that were usually drunk and hence, notoriously easy to convince.

***

Anaander noticed something.

Zeiat knew this because she'd spent the last while noticing Anaander. 

However, she didn't have much time to think about what that thing could be, because in the next second, something strangely familiar fell into her lap, and then she was being kissed.

With tongue.

Which was definitely interesting.

Very interesting.

And a lot to process.

Who even was Anaander? A fish?

“There's more where that came from,” a very familiar voice whispered in her ear.

And then the smell hit her.

Green hair. Terrible personality. 

Zeiat smiled against soft lips and let herself be pulled up. 

Unfortunately, once the first wave of surprise was over, she was accutely aware that she was being used as a barrier between her acquaintance and Anaander. Which was very resourceful, of course, but not at all according to plan. 

Nevertheless, Zeiat let herself be dragged up, past the bar, to a nondescript back door, and then pushed out into the cool night air.

The chill hit her face and hands just as she was slammed back against the wall. And then kissed again. Very thoroughly.

“Not that this isn't enjoyable,” said Zeiat, breaking for air, “But Anaander's gone.”

Of course, she had to get straight to the point for once. She could have enjoyed this for a couple more seconds but somehow, it felt false, the lie between them.

Immediately, her acquaintance pulled away and stepped back.

“You're not drunk,” she said. 

“No,” said Zeiat. “I'm not.”

“I was just-”

“Going to use a hapless drunk in a nice suit to slide past Anaander and escape through the back door?”

Her acquaintance didn't even look guilty about it, only a little surprised. 

“I am a little more perceptive than I look.”

“What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Watching. Eggs hatch, fish swim, I watch. And extrapolate.”

“Well, I run. See you around.”

“I'll be watching.”

When she'd finally gathered herself enough to walk back inside, Anaander was nowhere to be seen.

Somehow, Zeiat found she didn't really care.

***

-Click Boom-

Sphene found herself thinking back to the past couple of weeks. 

One run in after another.

Coincidence.

The crowd she used to run with had always said there were no coincidences. 

Personally, she thought there were. 

Somehow, she found herself back in that park, stone cold sober and just plain cold. The encounters played through her head, one after another, over and over again, like a broken record.

She looked around, not knowing for what, but when she saw it, she knew.

She was looking for another coincidence.

***

Zeiat sat at one of the park tables. She'd laid out the contents of her pockets and was rearranging them in any pattern she saw fit. It helped her think.

Coins fell in with a couple of chess figurines fell in with mints and sticks of gum fell in with hair ties. There was the knife, the stray bullet, the tiny bottle of sauce, the tea bag, the nuts and bolts, a cellphone. 

“Hey,” someone said above her.

She looked up.

***

Sphene stood uncertainly in front of the stranger's table, watching the strange array of objects parade across the table. 

“Hello.”

“What's that?” Sphene asked, finding she didn't know what else to say.

“A game.”

“Can I join?”

“Generally, I don't play with people whose names I don't know.”

“I'm Sphene.” She held her hand out.

“Zeiat.”

The handshake was firm and just a tad lingering. 

“I like your shirt,” said Zeiat, smiling as she always did. “Beauty dies in LSD orgy after sex with 100 men. Creative.”

“Thank you.”

“Were you serious about joining me?”

Time to make her intent clear.

Sphene slithered into the seat and leaned forward. “Very.”

“Then tell me what the rules are,” Zeiat said. “And I'll add on to them.”

Sphene raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told.

***

Life worked in mysterious, round about, ways. But, much like a roundabout, it eventually got you where you needed to go. 

 

 

 


End file.
